


Wrath

by Aidaran, StarTravel



Series: Deadly Sins [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Deadly Sins Garak/Bashir Fest, M/M, anger issues, autistic julian, deadly sins, jules bashir - Freeform, non neurotypical, pre slash, wrath - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-03-26 15:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aidaran/pseuds/Aidaran, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: If Julian Bashir is not enough, something must be done to remedy it. He is smart enough to change himself, after all.--------------------------If only he could bring Jules back...And then Garak walks into his infirmary with a rather small burn, demanding to be treated quickly.“I don’t have time for this, Garak.”"You never have time lately, have you noticed?"





	Wrath

Julian Bashir feels he's about to break. He's pretty sure if he starts screaming, he won't be able to stop.

He’s mad about his parents and their most recent visit, about his secret being exposed and used by the Federation, about how the other augments live, and about how lonely and isolated he is.

Julian is furious and isolated and feels like no one likes him and like he’s a thief.

H e just wishes he could have been Jules. Maybe Jules would have been acceptable, if not brilliant. Maybe Jules wouldn't feel angry at everything and everyone.

He starts isolating from the others little by little by the time they are on the Defiant, and all he does is work. He just keeps working and working, and snaps at anyone who tries to interrupt him, so people just lets him alone.

If only he could bring Jules back...

And then Garak walks into his infirmary with a rather small burn, demanding to be treated quickly.

“I don’t have time for this, Garak.”

"You never have time lately, have you noticed?"

"I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re in the middle of a war.” Julian snaps as he presses a hypospray to the burn.

"That's no reason to try to go through my arm with a hypo."

Garak rubs the area, annoyed even as he gives the doctor a curious look. He must be at the end of his rope, to be so careless even in the infirmary. They’ll need to insist that he has to take a break soon.

“I’m not!” Julian’s tone is short as he turns back to more numbers. Always numbers to crunch these days. That calms him. Makes reality seem a bit less real, even if each number inevitably ends up representing a life in one way or the other.

"You used to be better at caring for your patients. Then again, you used to try to make people think you are human."

Garak knows that borders on cruel, but he's tired of this whole situation. Julian has been ignoring and mistreating him for too long. Even more frustratingly, he’s been treating himself just as poorly. Julian stills a little, his back going almost rod straight.

“If your burn is healed, you should leave.”

"Why? So I can spare you from my presence? I remember a time when you actually sought me out."

“Well, times have changed.” Julian’s voice is cold, but really he’s furious and tired. Tired of being bothered, of the war, of being Julian Bashir. He’s tired of everything being too loud and too fast and of his uniform.

"Too bad. I miss the Julian from before. That one at least wanted to have friends. If you find him, tell him to come to my room for some tea whenever he wants. He won't be told to go away."

He goes out and Julian has to repress the urge to shout at him. Garak hears the muffled sound of things being thrown across the room.

Julian sits down after throwing several things and looks at the disaster. The floor is covered in glass and liquids, and the carpet has a nasty stain he's sure will eat through it. He wants to go away. Of course Garak wants the old Julian. No one wants him. Everyone always want him to be someone else.

Julian stares at his rows of medicines angrily. Maybe he can give it to them.

He always toyed with the idea in his mind so often there's only a couple adjustments left to the formula, if he's brave enough to follow through. He has no idea if it will work or not, but it’s worth the risk. Anything is worth not feeling like  _ this  _ anymore. 

And if he just - Julian makes it angrily, cursing himself under his breath. He shouldn’t but - they don’t need him. All he does is piss people off and feel pissed off. Julian finishes and stabs the needle in his arm with a wide smile.

He waits a bit, and at first counting seconds is easy. Little by little it starts being harder, and when he can't be sure anymore of the passage of time, he decides he can pay Garak a visit.

 

Julian walks down the hall at a hurried pace, surprised and apologetic when he bumps into someone. He’s borderline thrilled by it. He bumped into someone!

He chimes and hears Garak command the door to open. He clumsily enters the room, legs feeling a bit shaky. Julian gives Garak a bright smile, but his gaze is quite worrying as he sits down across from him.

"I decided I may accept that invitation for tea after all."

He's not sure if he should have waited a bit. Garak seemed quite angry before and seems almost frigid now. Garak smiles brittlely and shuffled him inside. Julian follows him and stumbles into a chair. Garak raises an eyebrow at that.

“Are you drunk, dear?”

"No, just very tired."

Julian grins a bit as he waits for his tea, because he can’t count the seconds at all. He has no idea how long he’s been here or how many casualties there could be or anything. He feels... Light. 

“So what did you want to discuss over tea, Garak?”

"Whatever you are up to, dear. Any good books or moral questions?"

“Neither. Well I did just read a charming book, a trill romance. I don’t think you’d like it.”

Julian is surprised to find he does remember most of it, if not in perfect detail. Strange. Maybe the Jules is slow to set in. Maybe Julian's memories will not fade as easily. Julian explains much of the plot to Garak, though he frequently gets lost in random details he does remember because he reread them several times. 

“So that’s what it’s about.”

"You didn't focus on the moral of the story. I'm surprised."

“Hmm? No, no, I suppose not. I was more focused on the plants. What do you think the moral was?”

Garak raises an eyebrow. Julian goes on these asides plenty, but usually he still brings his point back to the ethics. He guesses Julian doesn't want to provoke another fight.

"I think the moral is that they were all fools and they earned the death they received." He bites his tongue as soon as he finishes saying that. Julian came here offering peace and he is already trying to pick a fight. Yet Julian doesn't react. 

“Now I think that’s a little harsh. That one character seemed very smart. The girl who was only in one scene - she had a mouse. Actually did you know field mice -“

“Julian.”

"What?" He is confused. What did he do wrong this time? He feels like he may lash out again. Somehow he feels even less in control now.

“Julian, what did you do?” Garak’s voice is careful and controlled. Julian huffs a bit and closes his eyes. Of course Garak would know.

"I didn't do anything."

"Don't lie to me."

Julian sighs. Better to say it, if anyway probably everybody will find out soon, if it doesn’t end up wearing off. Just as everybody found out about his enhancements. His secrets never seem to last as long as he’d like them too.

“I brought Jules Bashir to back life.”

"How?"

"Does it matter? Nobody liked me anyway!"

The mug breaks when it hits the wall. Julian stares at the broken cup and lets out a pained sound. So much for trying to control his anger. Here he is, breaking Garak's things as well.

“I’m sorry.”

“Julian, what did you do?”

“Medicine. It can be reversed. But it might be better this way. You'll all like me more, you'll see.”

"Why would you think we'd prefer a version of you we've never met?"

“Because you hate the me I became. And this is who I’m supposed to be. Slow, stupid Jules Bashir.”

"No, I hate the fact that you don't want to spend time with me. Nothing else."

“Well. Too late now. Julian Bashir is gone.” Julian says it dramatically as he leans back against his chair. Garak laughs a little, genuinely amused in spite of the severity of the situation.

"You really are a fool, dear. You never understand anything, do you?"

“How am I a fool?” Julian gives him a flat look, anger still simmering.

"Because you failed to understand what I was complaining about. I didn't ask for you to change." Garak hopes, really hopes Julian is telling the truth, and whatever he did, is indeed reversible. And yet... something doesn’t add up.

“You might not have, but everyone else wanted me too. And I did.”

“You don’t seem that different though, dear.”

"Maybe it will just take some time for my  _ real _ personality to set in."

He's now downright annoyed. Why can't he appreciate the sacrifice he just made? Nobody liked him before, and they don't like him now either? Why can't he ever win? He feels his throat close.

“Or maybe outside of a perfect memory and mathematical skills, this is who you were before.” Garak raises an eye ridge as Julian stiffens. That seems to have touched a nerve. Fascinating.

“I am *not* Jules.” Julian sounds angrier this time.

"I thought you have turned yourself into Jules, dear. Maybe you'll need to clarify it."

“I took away the effects of my enhancements. All the things that made me Julian are gone.” Julian snaps as he taps his leg. He feels a bit restless. Nothing is working out like he hoped - though he’s not sure what he hoped for anyway. He’s just so angry and exhausted and he needs it all to stop -

"Yet you are mostly the same."

“No I’m not! I’m rambling about mice and other things, and normally I at least remember not to even though I want to!” Julian mutters in a low voice as he crosses his arms, feet pressed more firmly against the floor. Then he stops as something hits him. He’s not ... he still remembers how to do medicine and to read and think in Latin ... and he’s not. He's not that different. Why?

"Julian, I think Jules was no different than you, then. Maybe Adigeon Prime can give you a refund."

“I But - I’ve spent my whole life thinking of Jules as dead.” Julian tries to argue even though he’s not sure what he’s arguing for. His identity he supposes, or the one he’s crafted for himself for so long. “Jules was socially awkward and picky and he didn’t like loud noises.”

"Oh, so different to Julian Bashir, who would suggest eating in his quarters to avoid noises and choose food of certain colors, and was never aware of what kind of invitation that seemed to be. So different, not the same person at all."

Julian huffs a little and folds in on himself a bit. Everything is spiraling in new directions so quickly. “I didn’t think you knew why I suggested it.”

"Well, we talked sweetly about literature and then instead of making a move you showed me the door several times. I think I did understand."

Julian blinks several times. Of course he knew what kind of invitation that seemed to be, but he never thought he was enough, he never quite dared... was he wrong all these years? But how could he even think of making a move, when he knew deep down his secret was that he was just a fabrication?

“Julian, I think you were mistaken about Jules all this years.”

“Oh. Oh. I - I don’t. I was supposed to be ... I was supposed to be, well. Like everyone else. But I was still ... I could learn better and communicate more, but nothing else changed. I was still ... different.”

"And now?"

“I ... I’m still different. I try hard to fit in but ... I still have to plan out conversations ahead of time to keep from insulting people half the time, and I like things too much, and I still hate most foods.”

"Did you plan this conversation we are having right now? Did you do that the past few years here?" 

“I - well. Less with you, but sometimes. With patients all the time.” Julian bites back a laugh. No one wants to hear  _ nearly  _ as much about medicine as he wants to tell them. 

"Tell me again how you are different, then."

"What else did you expect me to do? I just don't know what else to do!"

Garak grabs his mug just in time to prevent Julian from throwing it too. Too bad they don't have a holodeck here, he really needs to break stuff.

“You said it can be reversed?” Garak looks around to see if he has anything for Julian to break or rip up. Maybe he can afford to part from some of his cheapest fabrics, for Julian’s sake. “You’re angry because of the war and because everyone knows you’re enhanced and because you realized that you’re still different.”

"Julian may have been able to reverse it. Jules is not so bright. Possibly we can work with some of the other doctors on board, though."

"And yet I don't believe that. I think the augmentation was a scam."

“You think I’m still a genius?”

"Only in academic matters. Socially you are probably the same dumb man I asked to come have a tea."

“Thank you, Elim. It’s that kind of support that makes me happy.” Julian says dryly, though there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He misses this too, the easy conversation and teasing, the simple appreciation of one another.

"What else do you expect me to say when you actively tried to hurt yourself and turn into someone else?"

"I am less coordinated and a bit more spacey, though. So there was a change, I'm not the same Julian."

"That mug went right to the wall without much problem, I'd daresay."

“Yes, but I tripped three times on the way here. And I’m distracted easily by too many things - stop making that face at me - well, I can’t do math as well as before.” But he starts to realize he may be able to do it, if he puts in a bit more effort. Is the treatment wearing off? Was it never anything more than a placebo? He refuses to believe Garak is right. Not with this. Not when there’s no other options to just stop being.

"I think you tripped because you wanted to."

“Why would I want to?”

"To feel you are not yourself anymore. And maybe, to feel you can express all that anger that perfect Julian Bashir can't."

“I - I’m not - of course I’m angry! Everyone is dying and I can’t stop it!”

"And you are right to be angry and to need somewhere to put all that ire. The problem is that you took it on yourself - well, and in my arm when I was burned."

He shows him the small bruise he left with the hypo. Julian shivers a little and opens and closes his mouth. Then he just crumbles, body shaking as he stares down at the mark. “I’m sorry, Garak I’m so sorry.”

"I'm not mad. I just don't know how to help you. I'd rather keep this mug if you don't mind, this kind of commodities are a rare thing on the Defiant, but I can search for something else for you to break that's not attached to a living being. But truly, dear, I am not angry with you."

“You should be! I hurt you. Again.” Julian curls up again and winces, face scrunched up as though he’s in physical pain from the sight. “I don’t want to break anything, I want - I just want things to be back to normal, to be normal. I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

Garak gets closer and tentatively hugs Julian’s head to his chest. He expects him to thrash, to recoil, but instead he just buries himself in his arms.

"This is not a normal situation, Julian. Or should I call you Jules now? A war should never be normal."

“I don’t know what you should call me.” Julian presses his face into Garak’s chest.

"Maybe that never mattered, ever thought of that? I don't think you are different now."

“Maybe not. But I’m so tired. I’m so tired of tending to men I know won’t survive the second they come in. I’m tired of feeling overwhelmed all the time and then going to my room alone trying to calm down. I’m tired of feeling I can’t even cry.”

"I didn't want to be alone either, that's why I went to the infirmary earlier. Maybe we could be not alone together from time to time."

“Oh. If you didn’t mind I - I do you want a roommate?” Julian asks too quickly and then shakes his head a little. That must be Jules. That bluntness. He’s been hoping to say something like that for six years, and he just blurts it now, after the mess he made of everything. Garak will never say yes.

"Are you offering?" Garak raises his eye ridges a bit and tilts Julian's head so he can take on his expression. Julian dares to hope, since the expression he sees is not of disgust.

"Who'd you prefer? Julian or Jules?" There's a plea in his eyes. That one of his versions may ever be enough.

Garak swallows a little because he doesn’t want to make that choice for him. But - 

“Both are the same for me. There’s no difference.” Garak waits until he seems less angry, or at least calm enough that he won’t throw another mug. He only has so many. 

“You’ve always been Julian and Jules Bashir, both. A genius who is also - what do you keep calling it?  _ Different _ I think.” He’d done his research several years ago, right after they first met. He’d known for years Julian was not like the others, but not for the reasons the young man believed.

"And is that so bad?" Julian’s voice comes out in the same snap as before, but there’s something softer and desperate there. An older hurt. 

"I'd say no, but then, you've gone through all kind of lengths to hide it."

"People don't like it when you are certain kinds of different." Julian's voice is thin and Garak has to strain to understand.

“My dear? Could you explain it to me. Remember, I’m not human.“

"Humans ... they don't like it that much when you are almost like them but not quite. It puts them off. They want you to be normal and nothing else."

Julian says the words with a touch of bitterness, and Garak wonders if that has its own history. But for now, Julian sinks a bit more on Garak's chest, who decides to sit. He likes the contact, but his knees are not how they used to, after all, and it seems Julian will be at it for quite a longer time. He still doesn’t want to let go, so he keeps Julian’s hand in his.

“And you are not... normal, as you put it?”

“No, not really. Just different in a way people don’t usually like.”

"Good thing I'm not human, then." Garak murmurs softly, voice surprisingly gentle as he brushes his hand across Julian’s hair. 

“A good thing indeed.”

"So, what you want to do? Want me to help you get your things and move?"

Julian finally smiles, feeling a weight lifted off his chest. The seconds are slowly coming back to him, the sense of time passing and numbers flitting across his mind faster and body feeling more nimble by the second. But suddenly it doesn’t matter as much. He’s still awkward, clumsy Jules Bashir and accomplished, brilliant Julian Bashir. And maybe, with Garak, both are finally  _ enough _ .

"That would be most kind of you."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!


End file.
